Gift Swap
by JamesLuver
Summary: Downton's yearly tradition of anonymous gift-giving is upon the servants. Anna pulls her husband's name out of the hat - something she has always wanted to do - but what kind of special gift will she get for the man that she's already married to?
1. I

**A/N:** Technically meant to be a oneshot, but I'm trying to be more conscious of long things so I cut it in half. Bears no real relevance to the summary, but I didn't know how else to describe it. Based on the prompt, _Secret Santa_, even if it's a fairly recent thing. Not really edited to my satisfaction, but I've been too bone-achingly tired lately to tweak it properly. And I don't usually do 'tired'. Supermarkets are the worst places to work at this time of year.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

_Gift Swap_

It had been a Downton tradition for longer than Anna had worked there. Every year without fail, when Christmas came around, each member of staff's name would be studiously scribed by one of the housemaids or hall boys, then folded into small, neat squares and tossed into a hat. Then, with the servants' hall teeming at the seams with eager workers, everyone would draw out one piece of paper. A present would then be purchased for whoever's name was scribed on that scrap. It made it easier than trying to buy a gift for multiple members of staff, and it ensured that everyone received something in return.

Anna had always enjoyed that particular Downton quirk, but it had become even more enjoyable – and nerve-wracking – since John Bates had entered her life. The ensuing years had ensured that she looked forward to the tradition even more fiercely than she ever had done before; the chance to buy the fine man a gift was something that had thrilled and terrified her in equal measures. She had known that it would make her happy to purchase a present for him while passing it off simply as a necessity, hiding the truth of the matter. On the other hand, her palms had sweated madly at the thought of actually buying him something, for she'd been petrified that she was bound to buy him something that he didn't like or need, tarnishing his view of her forever.

She had never pulled his name. The first Christmases after his arrival she had plucked out a groom and a hall boy respectively. Once, she had pulled Mrs. Hughes' name. But never had she picked out his.

He had never picked out hers either. The first time, much to her amusement, he had picked out Thomas' name, and had grouched about it to her for days. In the end he'd bought him another carton of cigarettes, since the younger man got through them so quickly. One year, he hadn't received anything himself, for Miss O'Brien had deemed herself unlucky enough to have chosen his name, and consequently chose to ignore it. She'd had a stern talking to from both the housekeeper and the butler on the importance of good sportsmanship, but John had told Anna that he hadn't minded in the slightest.

"_In fact, I'm rather glad,"_ he'd said. _"I wouldn't have been too shocked if she'd bought a bottle of poison and disguised it as elderflower."_

She'd almost laughed until she'd cried at that, elbowing him in the ribs for being such a fright.

It hadn't been quite as important to her in the years that they'd courted each other. Shyly, they had exchanged their own gifts, hidden out of sight in the courtyard, books and ribbons and all manner of other sentimental things. But Anna had still yearned to pull his name out of that hat, to give him a surprise gift on top of the ones that she handed to him personally.

The draw always happened at the very beginning of December to give everyone enough time to sort out gifts on their half-days, and to give them enough time to be wrapped. And this year was very special, because her husband was back by her side, free from prison forever. It had been torture last year, knowing that she still had to go through the motions while he languished in a grotty cell. It had felt deceitful, somehow. But that was in the past.

On the morning of the annual draw they woke as early as usual, spending a few minutes reclining leisurely together, exchanging kisses and caresses. They forced themselves to quit the bed before they got too distracted. Anna hummed as she shimmied into her underthings, watching John pull on a clean undershirt across the other side of the room.

"Are you excited about the infamous draw today?" she asked him as she wandered over to the wardrobe to retrieve her dress.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sure it's something to really get excited over."

"How disappointing of you. I thought you'd have more enthusiasm than that to say you're back here with me." But she was smiling at the twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, I suppose there is one thing that I'm looking forward to."

"Oh? And what's that, pray tell?"

He shot her a smirk. "Well, it means I don't have to wrap the present anymore."

"And what gave you that idea?"

"Well, you are a darling," he said.

"You're impossible."

"Perhaps. But, after all," he added teasingly, "what are the other uses of a wife?"

She stared open-mouthed for a moment before springing into action, reaching across to give him a smarting smack.

He pouted, rubbing the spot on his arm. "What was that for?"

"You know very well, John Bates. I'm not a little wife."

"Well, you are," he pointed out. "You're barely five foot two."

He was utterly maddening. Still, she couldn't stop herself from leaning up to press her mouth against his, lips curving into a smile over his. His hands moved to cup her hips either side, guiding her lower body closer to his. She slanted her mouth more firmly against him, tongue slipping out to run across his bottom lip. He made a little sound in the back of his throat and attempted to deepen it, but she stepped away from him with a smirk.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bates, but a wife is only good for one thing, and I'm afraid it's not kissing."

Thoroughly beaten, he accepted the defeat graciously, moving away from her to fix his tie and collar at her mirror. Sobering, he tugged at it with a flourish before turning to face her again.

"I hope I don't get someone like Ivy, though," he said. "She's a lovely girl, but I wouldn't have a clue. What do young women like nowadays?"

"A sense of danger and adventure if Ivy is anything to go by. Anyway, maybe now would be a good time to practice on understanding young women," she said. "After all, you might have a daughter of your own one day." She had meant it to sound teasing, but it came out anything but. They stared at each other for a moment, the air thick with promise.

John broke it by smiling. "Well, I certainly hope that one day I will be utterly baffled by a row of girls."

"And one son so that you don't feel left out," she said, relieved that he hadn't asked her if she was trying to tell him something. She hated disappointing him every month, even if they had decided that they would quite like to have a year to themselves before welcoming anyone else to their family.

He pulled on his jacket, glancing at his watch. "We'd better get going if we don't want to miss the draw. You know what Mr. Carson's like about starting it on time."

She nodded. "All right. I'll be down in a moment. Get your coat on. I just need to pin my hair up."

He leant in to kiss her once, and she let him deepen it for a moment this time before shooing him out of the room with a loving smile. She tied her hair up in the no-nonsense bun, took a moment to smooth down the front of her dress, then joined her husband in the front hall. He helped her into her coat and she reached up to unhook his cane, handing it to him as he squashed his bowler hat down. It was these moments she loved the most, she thought dreamily as he helped her to fasten the front of her own coat, the quiet instants between moments of heated passion, where they fell into a routine that all husbands and wives might enjoy. She adored their lovemaking, of course, knowing that they were as close as two humans could ever hope to be, knowing that despite everything that had been thrown at them they were together, that she could have him in that state, but there was something even more beautiful about the sweet domesticity.

John grabbed hold of the door handle and pulled it open.

"After you," he said with a cheeky smile.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she replied, stepping out into the bone-aching cold, stamping her feet as she waited for him to lock the door behind him. He joined her in the next moment, offering her his arm, and she slipped her hand into the crook, stepping closer to his side to steal some of his warmth.

Their life couldn't get much better.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Bates, Anna, there you are."

Mr. Carson's rumbling voice greeted them as soon as they stepped in the back door.

"Good morning, Mr. Carson," John greeted him as he peeled off his gloves. "We're not late, are we?"

"No. We'll be starting in a minute."

"We'll be right with you as soon as we've taken our coats off."

Mr. Carson nodded his approval, disappearing back into the servants' hall, where the chatter was loud.

John chuckled as he placed his hat and gloves on the top shelf, taking Anna's from her so that he could place hers beside his, knowing that she was just a little too small for comfortable stretching. "What did I tell you?"

"Eager as a beaver," she agreed. "Which I'm a bit surprised about. I would've thought this was a rather undignified tradition."

"Mrs. Hughes probably forces him to enjoy it," said John with a twinkle in his eyes. "Now come on. Let's not test his patience."

Anna followed her husband into the servants' hall. Their places had already been filled with a couple of hall boys for the unofficial meeting before breakfast. John stood on Mr. Carson's left. The butler sat with an air of imperiousness, the hat filled with names in front of him on the table. He raised his hand in a gesture of asking for silence, and the chatter eventually lulled. Anna was secretly amused; he reminded her of a king holding court. Still, she stifled her giggles and stepped closer to her husband so that his arm brushed against hers.

"Thank you," said Mr. Carson. "Now, for those of you who have not experienced this particular Downton tradition before, I'll outline what is expected. Each of us will pull a name out of this hat, and then a present for the named will be purchased for them. The present is expected to be given on Christmas Day morning before breakfast. Is that clear?"

"What happens if we pick out someone who we don't even know?" Jimmy wanted to know, looking unimpressed by the whole thing.

"Then I expect a present to be bought all the same," said Mr. Carson. It wouldn't be too much of a strain to talk to the recipient, would it, James?"

Jimmy fell silent at that, but he didn't look happy at all. Everyone else ignored him as Mr. Carson shook the hat.

"Now," he said. "Mr. Bates, would you like to do the honours of drawing the first name?"

John nodded, reaching out towards the hat. Anna held her breath as his long, dextrous fingers grasped one of the sheets. He withdrew. Anna started to reach her own hand out towards it, but Mr. Carson promptly pulled it back towards him, taking one for himself and then passing it to his right. John chuckled lowly at the look on her face.

"Cheer up," he said. "You'll get your turn."

She pouted. "I'm going to be left with the last name."

"You never know, you might get someone good."

"Or I might not. If I end up with Thomas or Miss O'Brien through no choice of my own…"

He chuckled again. "You'll buy them a nice gift because you are kind-hearted, and that's the only outcome of it."

She rolled her eyes, then nudged him. "Are you going to open your paper, then?"

"Patient as ever," he joked, then glanced around. Everyone else was opening theirs, so he started to do the same, teasing her by lifting it higher where she couldn't read it too. She pouted as his grin widened, and then he folded the paper back into a neat square, tucking it into the pocket with his watch. She blinked at him.

"Aren't you going to share?"

"Hmm?" He looked absent-minded for a moment. "Oh, yes, of course." He lowered his voice further. "It's Madge."

"And you're that happy about it? Have I got something to worry about?"

He grazed his hand discreetly against the small of her back. "Well, now that you mention it, I've found myself increasingly infatuated with Mrs. Patmore's cooking."

She stifled her giggles. "Don't go there, thank you."

His touch on her back became a little more concrete as they watched the hat make its way back up the other side of the table. There were only a few people in front of her now, and the hat was handed to her by one of the younger housemaids. One tiny bit of paper sat there, looking very lonely. She swept it up. John's eyes were inquisitive on her as she opened it.

Her heart stopped and then kicked back into life, a caged rabbit banging. Her fingers trembled a little as the surprise overwhelmed her.

Two words, written in one of the hall boys' scruffy scrawl.

_Mr. Bates._

Her wish, after all these years, had finally come true. She had picked her husband's name out of the hat.

"Who have you got, then?"

She turned to find John staring at her curiously, probably a little wrong-footed by her reaction. She cleared her face as best she could.

"Just one of the gardeners," she said. "Harry. The young lad over there."

John glanced suspiciously in his direction, but said nothing.

"And that's that," said Mr. Carson, interrupting whatever might have followed. "Thank you, everyone. You have until Christmas Day morning to make sure that you buy and wrap your gift. Now, Daisy, Ivy, can you get the table set for breakfast?"

At the obvious end of the meeting, the outside staff and hall boys began to drift away. Anna tucked her piece of paper into the pocket on her dress.

She had some thinking to do now.

* * *

The day passed quickly enough, and soon Anna and John were unlocking the door to their cottage again. John lit the oil lamp while Anna moved into the kitchen to prepare tea and biscuits as a treat, placing them all on a tray and carrying them back into the parlour. John was already sitting on the sofa, his bad leg stretched out on the stool in front of him. It always bothered him more in cold weather. She suspected it was only going to get much worse.

"Here we go," she said softly.

He sat himself up a little, reaching out to take the cup that she offered him. "Thank you."

She set the tray on the table by her side, then snuggled herself in next to him. They passed the time idly, sometimes talking in low voices, other times not talking at all, simply relishing the feeling of being curled up together on their very own sofa.

At last John pressed a kiss against her hairline. "Shall we head upstairs?"

Anna nodded, stifling a yawn. "I think that's a good idea. Today has been rather hectic."

She wriggled off the sofa and moved to douse the lamp while John struggled to his feet with a huff. Together, they climbed the staircase, falling into their comfortable nightly routine. John heated the water and poured it into the basin while Anna fetched the towels and cloths, and they took it in turns to wipe themselves down. They threw on their nightclothes and Anna braided her hair while John emptied the water. She smiled a little at the domesticity of it all. At one time, she had thought that they would never have this. It was incredible that they could share such peace every day of their lives.

When John returned, running a hand through his hair to loosen the pomade, she grinned wider. Despite the cold winter, he still had the first couple of buttons open on his nightshirt, as was customary. Chest hair peeked over the top, and her insides fluttered. But she tempered it down, smoothing her fingers down the front of her gown.

"Aren't you going to warm the bed up?" she teased. "I can't get in until the sheets are toasty."

"That's all you really wanted me for, isn't it?" he griped, his eyes twinkling. "Your personal bed warmer." But he peeled the sheets back all the same, slipping between them and shifting onto his back. Anna knew that his knee was bothering him more then; usually, when his knee wasn't a discomfort, he would sleep on his left side, curling over her. He slept on his back when his knee was grating because it meant that he could flex it to stop it from seizing up without disturbing her slumber.

She pottered around for a few more minutes, replacing her hair pins on her dresser and blowing out the candles before hopping over the cold floorboards and slipping into bed beside him. She shivered as the cold seeped into her bones, but she looped her arm around his waist and snuggled her head into his neck, letting out a contented sigh.

"That's much better," she said.

"For you, maybe. Your feet are like blocks of ice."

She giggled, sliding one over his and delighting in the shudder that ran through him. "Hush, you."

His arm came up around her shoulder, holding her closer. "Isn't the wife supposed to be the quiet one?"

"I told you earlier: not in this marriage. Now have I got to shut you up myself?"

"I don't know," he said, tilting his chin down so that he was looking at her. "Why don't you try it?"

She shifted, raising herself up over him. She let her eyes rove over his face for a moment before lowering her mouth to his. They savoured the slow movement against each other for a few minutes before Anna slipped her tongue out, teasing at the seam of his lips. John grunted in the back of his throat, opening up for her to slip inside. Her palm cupped his cheek, drawing him closer, losing herself in him.

When they finally broke apart, panting softly, Anna brushed the stray strands of hair back from her husband's forehead, moving to press a kiss there before settling back into his embrace. Her fingers idly traced patterns against his covered stomach, teasing just slightly between the buttons. For a few minutes silenced reigned. She thought that perhaps he had drifted off to sleep, for his breathing had evened, but his voice issued through the darkness, startling the quiet.

"So," he said. "Harry the garden boy?"

"Madge?" she countered.

He huffed. "I've told you. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about my expression."

"You weren't looking at it," she joked. "But I don't mind too much. As long as you always remember who it is you're married to."

"And I'm not going to forget that in a hurry," he growled, moving to kiss her again. She thought it might have been the end of the matter, but he trailed his fingertips up her sensitive sides.

"Harry?" he repeated. "If I was looking rather too pleased about Madge, then you were practically giddy at the prospect of buying _him_ a gift."

"Are you jealous?" she said, arching lazily into his touch.

"Yes," he replied without preamble. "I thought I was supposed to be the only one in your affections."

"There's nothing to worry about," she teased him in response. "I'm not about to go running off with him. Although he does have beautiful curly hair…"

She squealed as John rolled on top of her, pressing his delicious weight into her.

"Really?" he said. "Nicer hair than mine?"

There was nothing nicer than John's hair than when it was free of pomade, falling boyishly every which way. She ran her hands through it now, sifting through the thick locks. "It might be. It's charming to see a man with hair as unruly as that."

Then it's my job to make you forget all about it."

His lips descended on that sweet spot on her neck, sucking just slightly. Anna sighed, arched her back, and fell into the sensations.

And he really did do his job at making her forget marvellously well.

* * *

The next few days were hectic, and Anna barely had a moment to herself between the preparations for Christmas and Lady Mary's demands. Not that she would ever complain; seeing the house come to life with the festivities made her mood soar. Seeing John smiling was the sweetest prize of all.

At long last, their half-day came around. Anna finished her chores gladly, then slipped into her coat and hat before going in search of her husband. She found him in the boot room, scrubbing at a pair of his lordship's shoes.

"Are you finishing up?" she said. "We shouldn't waste our precious time off."

He chuckled, patting down his hair and moving to untie his apron. "I suppose you're right."

She waited while he hung it up and limped towards her, grabbing his cane from the edge of the table where it was hooked. Her heart fluttered a little at seeing him in nothing but his shirt sleeves, but she clamped it down, averting her gaze. They had things to do this afternoon.

"Shall we start our own decorations today?" she asked as he slipped into his coat. "I think we should at least start trimming up the tree."

"Oh."

John's answer was less-than-enthusiastic, and she tilted her head. She thought he would have enjoyed that. "Is something wrong?"

He sighed, tapping his cane against his leg. "Well, I had planned on going into Ripon this afternoon."

"Well, it's not essential to get them done today," she said. "Perhaps we can do them in bursts over the next few days."

"Why don't you start and I'll join you later on?" he said.

Her face fell. "Don't you want me to come with you?"

"It's not that. God, of course not. You know there's nothing on earth I enjoy more than spending time with you."

"Then what?" She winced at how hurt she sounded. She didn't want to make him feel terrible.

"I planned to look for the secret gift today, is all," he said.

"And you don't want me to come with you because of that? What are you thinking of buying for Madge that you don't want me to see!?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I promise."

"So why can't I come?"

"Because I need to finish off my gifts for you too. I can't very well have you there when I'm trying to choose something."

She sighed. How could she argue with it? He was right. If he needed to finish off his shopping for her, then she couldn't very well go too.

"All right then. I suppose I'll see you later."

He risked moving closer to press a chaste kiss against her mouth. "I won't be too long, I promise. I'll try and give you a hand with the decorations later."

She nodded, patting his shoulder. "I'll save the tree for us to do together."

"Sounds perfect."

They walked to the back door together and out of the perimeter of Downton, but soon Anna had to turn in the direction of the cottages and John continued on towards the village to catch the bus. She watched him go for a moment, biting at her lip. Then, shaking her head at her own silliness, she made her way back home.

* * *

She heard the door open late on in the afternoon.

"Stay in there!" he called, and she smiled. She heard him creaking about upstairs before he returned, leaning against the doorframe as he took in the sight of their parlour. She hadn't got very far yet, just sprinkled holly over their fireplace, and set some pretty candles amongst them. There were cheeky sprigs of mistletoe in every doorway. The tree was in the corner, waiting to be decorated.

"Very nice," he said.

Anna dusted her hands off, moving towards him. "Did you get everything you needed?"

John's smile was secretive. "I certainly did."

"And what did you pick up for your Madge?"

"Just some nice candles."

"Did you now?" she raised an eyebrow and he offered her an innocent look which didn't entirely convince her. But she decided not to press. "Well, never mind that. Come and help me with the tree decorations before we have to go back to work."

"All right," he said, but his arms snaked out and caught her around the waist. "But don't think I haven't noticed what we're standing under, Mrs. Bates. And that requires giving your old husband a kiss."

She was happy to oblige.

* * *

"Ah, there you are, Anna."

Lady Mary was sitting up in bed, reclined there rather leisurely. Mr. Matthew had just left her room, wearing a rather pleased grin. Anna was glad that her mistress had taken the time to replace her nightgown.

"Is there something else you need, milady?" she asked as she placed the breakfast tray over her knees and made her way towards the curtains to throw them open.

"No, not like that. But I've decided to take a trip down London for a couple of days to look for a gift for Mr. Matthew. I'll be staying with Lady Rosamund, but I'll need you too."

Anna's heart sank a little at the thought of leaving John alone in the cottage even if it wasn't for long, but she knew that first and foremost she was a servant in Lady Mary's eyes. "Of course, milady. When would you want to go?"

"Tomorrow morning, I think. Will you be able to get the packing done?"

"Yes. If it's only for a couple of days we won't need much. I'll start as soon as the morning chores are over, and I'll head back to the cottage this afternoon to pack for myself, if that's all right."

"Very good. Well, I'll ring you when I'm done with breakfast."

"Yes, milady."

She bobbed her head and collected the dirty laundry to be taken back downstairs. Her heart was still somewhere in the region of her stomach. She and John hadn't been apart since his release from prison. She should be surprised and thankful that they hadn't had to spend any time apart before now, really, but she still couldn't help but feel despondent at the new development. Perhaps she would always hold a nugget of fear at the idea of being separated from him.

In the laundry room, she found John. She tried for a smile, but it couldn't have been very convincing, for he limped over to her at once, glancing both ways to make sure they were alone before taking her hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, even as her voice wavered, just like her smile.

"It's clearly something. Has someone upset you?"

"No, of course not. I'm being silly."

"You could never be silly," he told her firmly, squeezing her hand. "Now, let's hear what's bothering you."

"I told you, it's nothing. Lady Mary is going to London for a couple of days, that's all."

John's own face fell at that. "Oh, I see."

She managed a short laugh. "Look at the two of us. A right pair of silly beggars. We've been through worse than a couple of days apart."

"I know," he said. "But I'll miss you."

She glowed at hearing that, boldly moving to kiss his cheek, lingering just a little.

"But you should go and enjoy yourself," he continued. "London at this time of year. It must be quite magical."

"I will," she promised. "I'll go home later and pack so that we can spend all evening together."

She left him with a final squeeze of his hand, making her way towards the servants' hall. His words had sparked an idea within her. London at Christmas. She hadn't yet had the opportunity to go searching for a gift for the servants' exchange herself. London was more expensive and lucrative, but there were plenty of working class people there. She was sure she could find something meaningful but inexpensive.

Her spirits brightened just slightly. John was right. It would be quite magical indeed.

* * *

The evening passed too quickly for Anna's liking. John had shocked her by taking her out to dinner at the Grantham Arms, which she half-heartedly scolded him for so close to Christmas but enjoyed immensely. Once they had returned to Downton to dress their employers for bed, they made their way back home, drinking tea and eating biscuits as they curled up together on the sofa. When the hour grew late, they stretched out lazy limbs and made their way to bed, slipping into their nightclothes. As was customary, John slid into bed first and Anna followed soon after, and he curled up against her back, his hand spanning her stomach.

"I really will miss you," he said against her ear. "I won't like coming home to the bed alone."

Her wedding night had been a revelation; the following morning, she had found herself wondering how she had ever slept without John's solid form beside her. During his imprisonment sleep had been fitful. She was sure that it would be again for the next two days. "Neither will I. But I hope it will be over quickly."

"I'm sure it will," he said. "And I'm sure Mr. Carson would be all too glad to give me a bit of extra work to take my mind off your absence."

"As long as you don't go running to Madge for comfort," she teased, wriggling more firmly into his embrace. He kissed her hair.

"It never crossed my mind, love," he said.

* * *

The gravel crunched beneath her feet as she made her way towards the front of the abbey with her little valise clasped in both hands. John followed closely behind her, Mr. Carson relenting and allowing him there to say goodbye to his wife.

Lady Mary was already there with the butler, while Alfred loaded her case onto the back of the motor.

John opened the front door of the car for Anna so that she could plant her valise on the floor, and she turned towards him with a half-hearted smile.

"I'll see you soon," she said.

"Of course you will," he replied. "Have a good time. I'll still be here when you get back."

Lady Mary slipped into the back seat. "Anna, are you ready?"

"Yes, milady," she returned. "Goodbye, Mr. Bates."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Bates," he said, his eyes burning into hers. She knew how much he wanted to kiss her. But they had said a more private goodbye earlier, twined in the sheets of their bed, and Anna knew that the memory of his tenderness would have to carry her through the next days. Instead, she reached out to squeeze his hand, letting go reluctantly and climbing into the back seat. John closed the door behind her, and they stared at each other through the glass until the car started to move off. Only then did she turn back around, meeting Lady Mary's amused gaze.

"Goodness me," she said. "You're even worse than Mr. Matthew and I."

But she meant it affectionately, and Anna smiled.

* * *

John had been right: London was certainly magical at this time of year. Pretty Christmas decorations everywhere, masses of people winding through the streets, the smattering of slushy snow. It was so much livelier than quiet Yorkshire, and she could appreciate the hustle and bustle at a time like this. It made everything more exciting, somehow.

Lady Mary had set off for a more fashionable part of London, intent on finding the perfect gifts for her husband, leaving Anna to her own devices. She decided to head for a much more modest area, knowing that her wages wouldn't even buy her something small out here in the capital.

There were still plenty of shops and plenty of choice, and she enjoyed herself immensely, browsing them at her own pace. While John never complained when she wanted to go shopping, she knew that he didn't really enjoy it and only went along with it because it was what she wanted. She liked knowing that she could take as long as she truly wanted without always being conscious of what John might be thinking.

The first few shops offered her little in terms of inspiration, but she persevered, knowing that there had to be something out there that would do as a little gift. She picked up a few last minute gifts for her proper Christmas stack too, unable to resist.

And then she caught sight of it in the shop window, and her grin brightened. Her heart began to pound.

He'd had this before, a long time ago. It wasn't what she'd had in mind when she'd come out here, but everything fell into place for her. John would recognise it at once. He would appreciate it without a doubt.

It was perfect.

* * *

**A/N:** Final part coming soon.


	2. II

It was late when they returned to Downton after their time in London. The train had been delayed – Anna wasn't really sure why – and by the time they reached the house again, she was informed that John had already set of for the cottage. She sighed, wilting at the prospect of having to wait even longer to catch a glimpse of her husband, but thankfully Lady Mary was eager to retire with Mr. Matthew. Anna dressed her for bed as quickly as possible, then declined the invitations to stay in the abbey for the night.

"No, really," she said to Mrs. Hughes. "I'd like to see Mr. Bates tonight."

"But it's very dark outside."

"I'll be fine. I could find my way in my sleep now. It's a kind offer, Mrs. Hughes, truly, but I'd rather sleep in my own bed."

The housekeeper relented then. "Very well. I can't keep you here against your will. Now, hurry home. I'll lock up after you."

Anna reached the cottage quickly, slipping the key into the lock and stepping inside. The bottom floor was in darkness, but she'd glanced up at the upstairs window on the way in and there had been soft light emanating from their bedroom. John was still waiting up for her. Unbuttoning her coat, she hung it on the hooks by the door next to his, tiptoeing upstairs. She pushed open the bedroom door and smiled at the sight in front of her.

John was sitting up in bed, but he was snoring, his chin dropped against his chest, his book sliding from his lap. She fought a giggle, slipping into the room. She wouldn't wake him now. Not when he didn't get much sleep as it was. She padded around changing for bed as quietly as she could, her gaze drifting over to him every now and then, soaking in the boyish lines of his face. London had been exciting, but nothing could beat quiet moments like this, where she and John were alone. She'd ached for him over the last two days. She was glad to be back with him now. So very, very glad.

She tied the end of her plait off with a ribbon, making her way to her side of the bed, sliding beneath the covers and anchoring her arms around his waist. He stirred a little as he felt her weight press against him.

"Anna?" he slurred.

"Yes, it's me. Go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Sleepily, he turned to press a clumsy kiss against her temple. She snuggled further into his side, resting her head into the crook of his neck. It wasn't the most comfortable sleeping position in the world, but John didn't seem inclined to move and she was more than happy to stay exactly like that with him, feeling his chest rising and falling beneath her hand, breathing in the warm scent of his skin.

* * *

The nearer Christmas got, the more the excitement grew. The young men and women who had never experienced the grandeur of the estate at Christmas were endearing to see. Even Jimmy lost a little bit of his bored arrogance at the sight of the huge tree being brought into the great hall. The servants' hall was dressed with holly, and a little Christmas tree of their own was set in the corner. People began giggling in groups, evidently discussing the things that they'd bought for their respective receivers. Anna was in part dreading seeing what Jimmy had been bought – it was quite clear from the blushing and the giggling that one of the maids had fallen lucky – and in part anticipatory of the thunderous expression that was sure to be on Mr. Carson's face should it be inappropriate in any way.

It was also wonderful to see John engaging with the holiday so enthusiastically. He was as restrained as ever at work, of course, and she suspected that no one else would see it, but she knew him. It was in the light shining in his eyes and his eagerness when it came to wrapping the presents. He'd taken himself home early one evening while she needed to stay and finish off some mending, and she'd returned to find that she'd been barricaded out of the bedroom while he worked. He'd managed to make an awful lot of mess, but his pleased smile was more than a little compensation for that. She supposed there was a kind of magic in them finally being able to have their very own Christmas, even if they were surrounded by everyone else too.

Christmas morning dawned bright and early. It was the one day of the year that Anna didn't mind getting up early for. As she and John readied themselves for another shift up at the big house, she found herself wishing that they had more time to themselves on this day, that they didn't need to be up at the abbey so early, that they could while away the morning in bed, opening presents and perhaps exchanging more. But she supposed they were lucky enough to be allowed to sneak away after the servants' Christmas lunch until the evening. It was more than most people got.

John huffed a little as he bent down in their little wardrobe, fishing about in the bottom for the gift he'd bought for Madge. Anna eyed it curiously.

"So, the nice candles," she said.

"Yes," he replied without looking up, laying it carefully on the bed. "Don't worry, you'll see them today. And what about your present for the gardener?"

"Here," she said cheekily, waving her own wrapped gift in his face.

"I'm just as curious about that," he said. "How do I know that you've not bought him something racy, like your French garter?"

She giggled at the twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe I did. I tested it out on you and thought the results were favourable enough."

He growled, moving closer to her. "Then I'll have to make sure you forget all about him again."

"I'm counting on it," she said as his arms came up around her waist. He kissed her soundly then, but she pushed him away before they could lose themselves completely. "Now, Mr. Bates, I do believe we're required at Downton. The sooner we go, the sooner the afternoon will be here."

"Then lead the way, Mrs. Bates," he said, offering her his arm.

When they arrived up at the big house, the room was already filling with people. A rather large pile of presents had been gathered and was currently sitting in front of Mr. Carson, who sat at the head with his fingers steepled, looking very much like a god being gifted with tokens from his worshippers. She giggled a little at the image, then sobered when he caught her eye.

"Anna?" he said. "Is there something the matter?"

"No, Mr. Carson. Just the cheeriness of Christmas, is all."

He made a grunting sound at that, going back to contemplating the table top. Anna and John added their own presents there, moving to squeeze into seats further along the table together. Thomas and Alfred sat across from them. They were squashed in against Miss O'Brien.

_Between the snake and the rat,_ she thought, but said nothing, choosing instead to focus on the conversations flowing around her. The beginning of the day was always exciting. It was always fun to receive secret gifts from someone – and now that John was going to uncover hers, she was more excited than ever. She was certain he'd like it.

When it seemed that the servants' hall couldn't get more crowded, Mr. Carson rose to his feet. Hush fell at once as he cleared his throat.

"Thank you, everyone," he said.

He spoke a little more about the proud Downton traditions (Miss O'Brien sniffed and huffed her disapproval beside them), and finally ended it by picking up the first present and looking at the tag.

"Mr. Molesley," he read, and the other valet jumped forward eagerly. He rustled with the paper while the butler continued to hand the gifts around, and his face fell when he saw it.

"What is it, Mr. Molesley?" Anna asked, craning her neck to see better.

"A pair of socks," he said, crestfallen. "Well, thank you."

"They're not for your feet," Miss O'Brien piped up. "I bought them so you might know when to put a sock in it when it comes to matters that don't concern you."

There were a few uneasy titters at that, but Mrs. Hughes shot her a look. "That's enough, Miss O'Brien. I suppose it's not too much to ask for you to pleasant for one day?"

The lady's maid flattened her mouth into a grim line, but she fell silent. Mr. Molesley continued to morosely handle his socks while exclamations of glee issued from the other members of staff.

"Mr. Bates, Anna," Mr. Carson said. Anna's heart skipped. The two presents were passed down the line of the table together, coming to a stop in front of them.

"You first," John said with a smile, leaning back in his chair.

"Why?" she said, arching her eyebrow. "Trying to distract me so that I don't notice Madge opening her gift?"

"More like I need my full attention on Harry when he opens his," he countered lowly, and they both exchanged fond grins before Anna relented.

"All right then," she said. "I suppose I am curious."

John leant closer as she turned over the card to read. "Recognise the writing?"

"No," she frowned. "In fact, I can barely read it."

John took a hold of it, tilting his head to the side. "It says, _To Anna, with love_. And look, that's a kiss."

"Don't be soft," she grumbled, snatching it back to peer at more closely.

"I'm not being soft. Someone's sent you a present with love. I'm quite jealous."

"Well, you needn't be. I'm hardly going to go running off with them, am I?"

"Even if it's Mr. Molesley?"

She stifled a giggle, chancing a glance in the other valet's direction. "Mr. Bates, don't be cruel. It can't be Mr. Molesley."

"Well, who else do you suggest? I've seen him looking at you sometimes. He still carries a torch for you."

"No he doesn't. He's just being friendly."

"Yes, very friendly. It's a good thing I'm back now, otherwise he might have offered you a shoulder to cry on."

"You mean again?" she teased, bumping him with her shoulder.

He grumbled a little in the back of his throat, evidently not wanting to be reminded in too much detail of Mr. Molesley's pursuit of her, even if it had come to nothing. "Just open it."

"Try not to get too jealous," she said cheekily as her finger found an opening in the paper and pulled. "Even if it is a wonderful gift that leaves me feeling like a very lucky lady."

He rolled his eyes at that, fighting a smile. "All right. I promise."

Silence fell again then as Anna tried to rip open the contents of the package. She couldn't help her frisson of excitement.

The paper fell away, and she gasped.

Sitting nestled in the paper was a set of her absolute favourite bathing salts. They were a luxury that she didn't often afford herself, knowing that they were a little too expensive to indulge in regularly. But how –?

She looked up at John. He regarded her neutrally. "Bathing salts? Who got you those? They're very nice."

"Very nice indeed," she confirmed. "But who would know about them? I've never told anyone about my bathing habits before."

"I should hope not. That would leave me feeling rather insecure."

"It was you? You were the one who pulled my name out of the hat?"

"I'm not confirming that," he said, though he was grinning broadly. "Who says it isn't Mr. Molesley after all? He might have been close enough to catch a beautiful whiff of your lovely skin and perhaps he didn't rest until he found the very same scent."

She smacked his arm just lightly. "Stop being so silly. It was you!"

He sobered then, catching her hand beneath the table. "Well, perhaps it was. I know how much you like them."

She knew how much he liked them too – he was often extra amorous when she'd bathed in them, burying his head in the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply, his lips playing over her skin as he murmured his appreciation.

But she hadn't had them in months, and tears welled unbidden in her eyes at his thoughtful generosity. "Mr. Bates, you didn't need to. I know these cost far more than what the set amount was."

"And?" he said. "You're my wife. I'm allowed to treat you."

"Yes, but I've seen the pile of presents in the wardrobe at home. I think you've treated me enough."

His face fell. "So you don't like them?"

"No, of course I do. And I'm more than a little relieved that these weren't for Madge." Her eyes twinkled, flashing heated promise at him as she recalled the romantic evenings they'd spent after she'd luxuriated in such finery. "They're perfect. Thank you."

He smiled. "I'm glad."

"Now, come on. It's your turn." Anna suddenly remembered that through some ironic twist they had picked each other. And he still thought that she'd bought Harry something. Suppressing a giggle, she leant in to him eagerly, not wanting to miss his face expression as he uncovered his present and realised the same thing.

"Oh, all right," he sighed unenthusiastically. "I just hope a certain someone hasn't picked my name out. He's more bitter than ever now."

Her grin widened. "Well, there's only one way to find out. Open it."

He chuckled. "You're worse than a child." But his tone was nothing but affectionate, and she knew that he found it altogether endearing. Slowly, he picked it up. "It's heavier than I thought it would be." Cautiously, he peeled back a corner. She waited with bated breath. His brow furrowed. "Is this…?"

The book fell out onto the table. He picked it up, staring. Then, he turned towards her.

"Frost?" he said.

She couldn't contain her smile, unable to pretend any different. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," he said. "It's his best volume. But how…?"

And then the penny dropped, and he started to chuckle too. "You had me?"

She nodded. "Or rather your name chose me. I was last to pick the paper, after all."

He shook his head disbelievingly. "What are the odds?"

"I know," she said. "But it was very nice. Now open it. There's a reason why I chose that one."

He picked the book of Frost's poetry up reverently, opening the spine. Her inscription, lovingly carved, lay on the inside. She read the words over his shoulder, biting her lip, hoping that he'd like it.

_My darling John,_

_Years have passed like minutes, and I am so grateful that we are here together now. But I hope we never forget our roots and how we came to be here today, and I hope this can serve as a reminder. Look upon this book and remember a night in the middle of October in 1914. Remember that I love you just as much now as I did back then – more, if it is possible. No matter what, always remember._

_Forever yours,_

_Anna._

John looked back at her. She saw his eyes were misty, but he was smiling.

"If we were alone now I'd kiss you," he told her quietly. "This is perfect."

She smiled wide and was about to reply before Miss O'Brien's voice cut across them.

"Oh, bloody hell."

They both turned towards her to find her staring down at the inscription of the book with her brow wrinkled in distaste.

"Problem, Miss O'Brien?" John said with icy politeness, closing the book with a snap.

But the lady's maid was not to be deterred. "I thought we'd be spared all your awful soppiness now that you've got a home of your own, never mind you bringing it here to inflict upon us all. I might be sick, and I've not had breakfast yet."

"What's this?" said Thomas. Although he and Miss O'Brien generally ignored each other now, he was always interested when it came to any tension with the Bateses.

"Looks like Anna pulled her darling John's name out of the hat," Miss O'Brien said coolly.

Anna felt herself blushing, but John merely tucked the book out of sight. "I suggest that you keep your observations to yourself."

"Come now, Mr. Bates," said Thomas. "She does have a point. I don't want to see any of your silly love nest antics here at Downton. There's a time for those kinds of things, and in work time is not one of them."

"When I'm interested in your opinion I'll ask for it," John shot back.

Thankfully, the atmosphere was broken by Mr. Carson's booming voice. "That's it, everyone. Everyone has received their gift. It's time to start work now. I f the table could be set for breakfast…"

The relaxation period broken, everyone reluctantly rose to their feet in order to take their rightful places. John stayed them a moment, brushing his fingers against Anna's.

"Ignore them," he said. "They're just jealous. I shall treasure this forever. It's perfect."

She glowed. "I thought you'd like it. I know you've read it before, but –"

"You don't need to make excuses for it," he said firmly. "Nothing could be better than this. Thank you."

Even Thomas and Miss O'Brien's unfriendly looks couldn't dampen her spirits.

* * *

Their afternoon in the cottage passed far too quickly for her liking. There, they exchanged the other gifts that they'd purchased for each other, Anna again repeating her claims that John had spoiled her far too much. He'd remained adamant that she deserved even more, that if he'd had the means to do so he would have bought her the world, for she deserved it for everything that she had put up with because of him.

The rest of the afternoon had been spent unashamedly in bed, sheets thrown from their bodies despite the cold weather, hands entwined as they talked intimately. Anna always felt naughty undressing in the middle of the day, when everyone up at Downton was still hard at work while they were making love with their curtains wide open. It was delicious.

Unfortunately, it had to end, and they dragged themselves back to the house for their evening tasks, throwing each other secret smiles as they were engulfed with the chaos and bustle once more. She happily gossiped with Lady Mary about the things that she had received, not feeling the least bit envious when Lady Mary described her jewels and new frocks. She wouldn't change the life she had with John for anything.

Her duties were finished now until Lady Mary needed her to change for bed, so she made her way slowly back down the staircase to the servants' quarters. When she arrived, however, there was no sign of John.

"Is Mr. Bates still with his lordship?" she asked Mrs. Hughes as she moved to take her usual seat.

The housekeeper looked up. "No, He's gone outside to the courtyard for a breath of fresh air. Though it's not very warm out there. I don't know how long he'll really be."

Anna frowned. They hadn't used the courtyard since he had been released from prison. It was usually occupied by some of the younger members of staff now. Although it had been theirs exclusively for years, times had changed and they had made a new haven for themselves to enjoy. John no longer brooded the way he had when they'd courted each other. It was strange that he'd be out there.

"I think I'll go and see how he is," she said.

"Very well. Don't be too long. You know the family don't take as long tonight so that we can have a little more free time ourselves. I shouldn't think that dinner will be far away."

Anna nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

She made her way into the hallway, taking the opportunity to grab her coat – the weather was certainly chilly – and then made her way to the back door.

He was sitting in the shadows on the far side of the courtyard, surrounded by disused crates. She folded her arms over her chest, eyebrows raised playfully.

"Mr. Bates," she said. "You're going to catch your death out here with no coat on, and I won't feel sorry for you."

He started initially, but chuckled when she'd finished speaking. "You should know me by now."

"I _do _know you," she said, and watched his eyes darken at her implication. Rubbing her hands over her arms, she stepped out into the courtyard, moving to nestle against his side. He lifted his arm and pulled her in, and she snuggled closer, resting her head against his chest.

"I know I've said it already, but thank you for your secret present," he said. "It was beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"I love it. I love all of your presents, of course, but that one was…"

"Special?" she offered.

"It puts mine to shame."

"Don't be silly, of course it doesn't. I love it. And I'm very relieved that it wasn't for Madge. I'm sure I would have been quite jealous myself to know that you'd bought my favourite soaps for someone else!"

"Perhaps next year," he teased, and she swatted him.

"Hush, you. Otherwise I'll take your gift back."

"No, you won't. You're far too kind for that."

They fell silent for a moment, and then Anna turned to look at him. "There's one more part to the gift."

"Is there?" He was visibly surprised now. "What more could there be?"

She took a deep breath, looking to the sky. "Do you remember our first kiss?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was frowning. "That's an odd question. But, yes, of course I do. It was the same night that I was reading that collection of Frost poems at the table."

"It was out here. Almost in the exact same place."

"Yes, I know."

They fell silent again for a moment, each remembering the day. Anna rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. The war had only just started. The young men had signed up and departed for France. Morale had been high. But every day more deaths were reported, someone else's husband or sweetheart or son blown apart, never to return. Downton had been no exception. A young groom had been killed first, then others in quick succession. It had been almost surreal how so many people could be wiped out in so short a space of time.

Anna had received the letter from her mother one morning as she'd sat eating breakfast. The words had hit a place inside her that she had long forgotten about, and she had asked to be excused. Mrs. Hughes must have seen the expression on her face, for she'd granted it at once.

Later that evening, she hadn't felt like socialising with the others. John had been sitting at the table with his book propped open in front of him – the newest one that they were reading together, sitting side by side with their shoulders touching, still nothing more than friends. Instead of turning into the hall, she'd made her way outside, into the brisk October night. Only a few minutes later John had followed her, moving to sit beside her on the crates. Anna closed her eyes and brought the memory properly to her mind. She could remember each little detail perfectly.

"_What is it?" he asked quietly._

_Biting her lip, she debated whether to show him the letter. In the end, she fished it out. She could never resist sharing her burdens with him, even if he never wanted to share his with her._

_He took it without a word and read it quietly, only asking for clarification when he reached the end. "Who's Daniel Miller?"_

"_Danny," she said softly. "He was the son of a neighbouring farmer back at home."_

"_Oh." He didn't ask, but she knew that he wondered why his death was affecting her so._

"_We knew each other quite well," she said, staring straight ahead. "He was very nice."_

"_And you were…sweet on him."_

_It wasn't a question. She didn't turn to look at him._

"_I suppose I was, really. We spent a lot of time together before I came to Downton." Her lips tugged into a nostalgic smile. "He was my first kiss. Only kiss, actually."_

_John shifted against her, obviously uncomfortable. "What happened?"_

"_I came to Downton," she said simply. "Mum and Dad needed the money, and I couldn't tell them that I wanted to stay."_

"_You would have married him if you had."_

_There was something unidentifiable in his voice._

_She shrugged. "I don't know. I was sweet on him, but I didn't know what love was. Not then. Not like I do now."_

_His intake of breath was sharp, but she didn't flinch. He already knew how she felt. What was the point of pretending otherwise?_

"_I'm going to the memorial," she said. "I've arranged it with Mrs. Hughes. They don't have a body so they can't have a proper funeral, but they're holding it next week."_

_They fell silent, each contemplating the unpredictability of life. She took the chance and glanced into his face. It was a miasma of agonising emotions, and she knew what he was thinking about. What if he'd never met her? What if she'd been Mrs. Miller, mother of two young children, now a widow? He swallowed hard._

"_I'm sorry for your loss," he said. "Truly."_

_She sighed. "It's not my loss, not really. I sometimes saw him when I visited home, and we sometimes passed the time together, but he had someone else. And anything else I might have felt for him was long gone. And you know why."_

_Cautiously, his arm came around her. It was unexpected, but she wasn't about to question it. She shifted closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, before Anna turned her head._

"_Thank you," she said._

_His grip tightened unconsciously. "It's nothing."_

"_It's something to me."_

_Slowly, she looked up into his face. He tilted his head down. Their faces were closer than she'd initially thought. There was barely a few inches between them. She drew breath sharply. His eyes flickered between her lips and her own eyes. She knew that he wanted to kiss her. It was a heady sensation to realise that. She inched a little closer. He didn't move away. Their noses brushed. They continued to let their gazes flicker. She wetted her lips nervously. He followed her every move. Her hand found his shoulder, touching just barely, as though she was afraid that the spell would be broken if she used any more pressure._

"_Mr. Bates," she breathed. He shivered, his eyes lowering to her mouth once more._

_And then they were leaning in towards each other, closing the very short distance. Anna was unable to keep her eyes open, letting them drift closed in anticipation._

_And then their mouths met. Softly at first, barely grazing. Anna made the tiniest of sounds in the back of her throat, trying to memorise everything about this moment. The exact texture of his lips. The rush of his breath over her face. His warmth. His everything._

_The contact stayed like that between them for several long seconds. Just the gentle brushing of mouths, John's arm around her back, her hand on his shoulder. No other contact._

_Eventually, they broke apart. John shuddered, leaning his forehead against hers. She gazed up into his eyes, trembling._

"_I'm sorry," he said._

"_Don't you dare apologise for that," she said fiercely. "You hear me? I don't want to hear about what you can and can't offer me."_

"_Those things are the truth."_

"_And they're not important right now. All that matter is you and me. And our happiness. You make me happy, whatever you might think. You can't kiss me like that and then take it away as though it means nothing. Because I know it means something to you too. As much to you as it does to me."_

_He shivered at that, gaze flickering over her. She pressed her forehead more firmly against his, looking deeper into his eyes. Her grip on his shoulder had tightened._

"_I love you," she breathed, and claimed his mouth again. It was longer this time, firmer now, bolder. John's hand grazed her breast as he moved it down to cup her waist. And then his tongue touched her lips, moist and warm, more wonderful than she'd ever thought possible. Tentatively, she opened her mouth, allowing him access._

_The first brush of his tongue over hers made her pause. The second stopped the world from spinning. Nothing else existed. He kissed her so softly, so tenderly, pouring everything that he hadn't said to her into the movement of his mouth. She held him close, her shaking hand moving tentatively to the back of his neck. She shivered at the contact. It was the most intimately that she'd ever touched him. His skin was so soft there. His hand burned her through her clothes._

_When they broke apart for the second time, they pressed their foreheads together again, panting softly. She breathed in the warm spice of his breath and closed her eyes, tears blossoming behind closed lids, lips quirking up in a shaking smile. They stayed like that for some time, and Anna's heart sang at the realisation that he wasn't going to try to take it back. It was here to stay. He might not have said anything yet, but he didn't need to._

_He had just given her back the greatest gift of all in the midst of this hopeless darkness:_

_Hope._

Now, John tilted his head down to look at her. "Why are you bringing that up again?"

She slipped her hand beneath his jacket, splaying her palm against his ribcage. "I don't know. I'm feeling nostalgic, I suppose. I gave you that book as a reminder of how we truly started. And it was necessary to remind you of it in detail for what I'm going to do now."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows in question. She turned her body a little into him, her eyes searching his face.

"Yes," she said simply. "Now close your eyes."

He shot her one last quizzical glance before obeying. She took the opportunity to study those fine features of his, from the strong, dark brow to the masculine line of his jaw. Then, smiling just slightly, she leaned closer, placing one of her hands over both of his.

"Keep still," she said. "I'm giving you your present now."

He opened his hands beneath hers, evidently expecting her to drop something into them, and her smile widened as she leant in to him instead, pressing her mouth to his as her eyes drifted closed. He started a little, but she stroked her thumb over the back of one of his hands in a soothing circle, and he soon settled down. There was nothing passionate about it. They didn't even move their mouths against each other. But the lingering pressure of his against hers flooded the pit of her belly with warmth. Its innocence was beautiful.

Too soon they parted, the soft smacking sound audible even over her pounding heart. She opened her eyes reluctantly and thrilled to find John's still closed, his lips tugging into a warm smile.

"What was that for?" he murmured.

"I've told you. Today was about reminding you of old times," she said. "It was a nice reminder of our first kiss out here. And we've not done it here since you came back. There's been no need to with a home of our own. I thought it was quite appropriate. "

His smile widened. "You think so?"

"Well, perhaps not appropriate," she amended. "But it fit in nicely."

"I can't argue there."

They kept their foreheads pressed together for a few moments longer, savouring the feel of each other's breaths on their faces. Anna would never grow tired of being this close to him, of touching him in such a way. But the night was dragging on. Soon they would be required to attend dinner, and no doubt the other servants were beginning to wonder where they'd disappeared to. It wouldn't do to have them talking. She was just about to reluctantly suggest that they head back inside when she heard Mrs. Hughes' voice.

"Anna, Mr. Bates. Dinner's ready."

They broke apart at once. Anna felt embarrassed heat flood her cheeks at the thought of being caught like that, arms around each other, faces so close, their voices low and intimate. But Mrs. Hughes' expression betrayed nothing as they struggled back to their feet, making sure to put extra space between themselves. John excused himself with a bow of his head, slipping back inside, but Anna lingered beside Mrs. Hughes for a moment longer, contrite.

"I'm sorry," she said. "We shouldn't have forgotten where we were."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the housekeeper replied lightly. "I saw nothing."

She had to have, of course; it was impossible to have missed them. But Anna smiled gratefully all the same, moving back inside herself. In the doorway to the servants' hall she lingered for a moment, seeking out the back of her husband's head and smiling softly to herself.

Today had been very nice, she thought. It was nice to remind themselves of how they had started off, of how much she had enjoyed courting him even though it hadn't been in the conventional sense. She would always remember each and every aspect of it.

At the same time, however, she thought much later that night, cradling her husband's body between her thighs as he rested his head against her shoulder and panted softly for breath, the present was a wonderful thing to behold too.

* * *

**A/N:** Apologies for not replying to reviews yet - I was working Monday and Tuesday and I've just not had the time. But I appreciate them all.

To those who celebrate it, Merry Christmas! To those who don't, have a great day. :)


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